


The Sins of Our Father

by sirenofodysseus



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Family Feels, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-22 18:29:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11973165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirenofodysseus/pseuds/sirenofodysseus
Summary: Set after Something Rotten in Redmund (4x20). ‘He wanted his son to always love him and to know, he would always love him in return—as a father always should.’ Written to fulfill my H/C bingo square of “FREE SPACE” – abuse.





	The Sins of Our Father

**Author's Note:**

> For whatever reason, this idea just _wouldn't_ leave me alone. Thank you muse for making me have warm feelings again.  <3

Cradling his newborn baby boy, Rigsby had never been happier. He and Sarah had created precious life and now, sleeping soundly in his hold, Ben had become his entire world in a matter of hours. He could suddenly understand why Patrick Jane had gone off the rail so abruptly after Red John had murdered his family—because he couldn’t imagine letting anything happen to the slumbering infant in his arms.

 

From the hospital bed, Rigsby knew Sarah was watching them and he _knew_ she felt the same way.

 

He wondered, glancing down at his son, if his father had ever had felt this way about him as an infant. If, when he had been born and swaddled close to his mother’s chest, his father had taken one look at him and had felt the _same_ way that Rigsby did now toward his own son.

 

Somehow, he doubted it – because he couldn’t even _imagine_ raising a fist (or a belt) to his own son, as his father had done to him all those years ago. He’d been reassured by Grace that he’d _never_ be like his father, because he was too ‘kind-hearted’; however, the road to hell was paved with good intentions and Wayne Rigsby was still the son of his father.

 

Maybe he couldn’t imagine hurting his son, but what about down the line? Six months from now, four years from now? What stopped him from ridiculing, harassing and beating the crap out of his son, as his father had done to him?

 

His stomach hardened. It was _fear_ that stopped him. He ultimately _feared_ the thought of Ben resenting him as he had (and did) with his own father.

 

Sarah’s soft, warm voice interrupted his reverie. “You’re a natural, Wayne. You’re going to be a great father.”

 

He smiled briefly at her. He wasn’t a natural, this—knowing how hold a baby correctly—had come from prenatal classes that Sarah had _begged_ him to attend. Nobody, he supposed, could teach you how to be a father; it was just something you learned until it became second nature.

 

“Did you want to hold him again?” Rigsby asked Sarah, who nodded before he tenderly passed the infant to her. Ben sighed softly, his little nose crinkling and perhaps, because the infant sensed the safety of his own mother, continued to sleep against her chest.

 

Rigsby’s heart swelled at the beautiful sight.

 

Because he had seen first-hand how damning the cycle of abuse could truly be, thanks to his career as an agent of the CBI, he’d been so terrified to have a child. He didn’t want to be one of those parents who beat the crap out of his kids, only to turn around and blame it on his shitty upbringing.

 

He wanted to be one of those parents, who beat the odds. One of those parents, who broke the cycle. He wanted his son to always love him and to know, he would always love him in return—as a father _always_ should.


End file.
